


She's the Snake

by monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Quidditch, Teen Romance, Voldemort never came back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: In a universe where Voldemort never came back, Harry lives with Sirius, and Dumbledore isn't dying, the worst thing the Golden Trio has to contend with is their grades and Quidditch matches... oh, and the recent magical attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns. Harry is sure Malfoy had something to do with it, and though Hermione doesn't agree, her sarcastic offer somehow turns into her latest nightmare: to go undercover as a boy in the Slytherin dorms and find out what's really going on. And maybe throw a Quidditch game or two.But there's one thing she hasn't prepared for: falling in love with the boy she's supposed to be spying on.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 41
Kudos: 131
Collections: Dramione RomCom Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneRomComFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneRomComFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> She's the Man (2006)
> 
>   
> Originally this was supposed to be a one shot, but I got carried away and now there will be multiple chapters. I'm not sure how many yet, but I don't expect this will be _too_ long. Buckle up, because this is going to be ridiculous! Many thanks to raven_maiden for the beta!

Hermione stood on the platform, watching eager first years pile onto the Hogwarts Express. Several meters away, Molly Weasley was giving Ron and Ginny some sort of pep talk while they groaned about it. A smile tugged at her lips, but she nervously bit it away as she scanned the crowd for Harry.

Finally, she spotted him. He jogged over to her, his hair all mussed, a large black dog following at his heels. “There you are!” She put her hands on her hips as he ambled up to her with a cheeky grin and wrapped her up in a quick hug. “Thought you were going to miss the train.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Almost did.  _ Someone _ just had to come in his animagus form because it’s ‘tradition,’ and then we passed a cat on the way up to King’s Cross.”

Hermione giggled as a cold, wet nose shoved into her hand. “Hi, Sirius. You know Wormtail is still in Azkaban, right? There’s really no need for… all this,” she said with a sweeping gesture.

Sirius barked and wagged his tail while Harry just shook his head. “Yes, he’s well aware. He just likes causing trouble for his only godson.”

Sirius barked again a tone of admonishment, and Hermione swore she saw a flash of teeth approximating a smile before he trotted away. She wondered if he planned on staying a dog all the way back to Grimmauld Place. “No offense, Harry—you know I love Sirius—but sometimes I wonder if he’s not the best influence on you.”

Harry laughed. “He just likes to have fun. You try being locked up for twelve years and see how stable you are when you get out.”

Hermione frowned. Of course she had sympathy for what Sirius had been through, but his cavalier attitude left her more than a little worried about her best friend’s grades. This year would be demanding, and she wasn’t sure he was taking it seriously. She already had done most of her reading and gotten a jumpstart on coursework over the summer, but when she wrote to Harry and Ron all they could talk about was Quidditch.  _ Boys. _

Harry ran up ahead to chat with Ron as they got on the train, leaving Hermione to her thoughts. She climbed up the steps and collided with something rather firm… and tall. “Oh! Pardon me,” she exclaimed, raising her eyes to meet cool grey ones.

“Granger.” Draco Malfoy had gotten taller over the summer. Broader, too. “If you’d run a brush through that nest you call hair, maybe you’d be able to see where you’re going.” 

“Yes, well—” she began, not really having a destination in mind.

He merely smirked and turned to make his way to his compartment. 

She closed her mouth and proceeded to look for Harry and Ron, not wanting to dwell on why her heart was beating so rapidly. She found their compartment and settled across from the boys, taking deep breaths.

“What’re you so red for, ‘Mione?” Ron looked at her quizzically.

“Nothing. Just ran into Malfoy, that’s all.” He had said worse things to her before, so she wasn’t sure what had her so shaken up.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “What did he say to you?”

“Erm,” she started. “Well, he’s losing his touch, if you ask me. He just made some snide remark about my hair. He hasn’t called me Mudblood in ages—probably since third year.”

“Getting soft, is he?” Ron snorted. “Maybe he fancies you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermione felt her cheeks warm.

“Yeah, Ron. If anything, he only pokes at Hermione to get to me.” Harry looked angry, and she could practically see the wheels in his head turning.

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. Harry tended to be shortsighted when it came to Draco Malfoy. Their rivalry had started first year when Harry rejected his offer of friendship and somehow endured to this day, even though there were no concrete reasons for it to continue other than mutual arrogance. 

She watched as Harry seemed to mull over something, scratching at his new stubble. “Speaking of, have you heard about the recent attacks?”

Ron shifted in his seat. “Oh yeah, on Muggles?”

Harry nodded. “Magical attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns. There were more over the summer. They think it’s Voldemort’s old supporters. I’ve been wondering if the Malfoys had anything to do with it.”

Hermione sighed. “Harry, you can’t possibly think Draco or his father are involved.”

“Why not? His father supported Volde—”

“You Know Who,” Ron interjected. He was still uncomfortable with the name.

“Grow up, Ronald,” Hermione spat. Then she turned to Harry. “I know Lucius Malfoy supported Voldemort in the past, but that doesn’t mean he’s actively trying to bring him back. Yes, he’s a Pure-blood elitist who uses money to get his way, but I don’t think he’s some powerful dark wizard with a nefarious agenda.”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, leaning back in his seat. “I saw the whole family head towards Knockturn Alley when I was getting my school supplies last week.”

“Still. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” Hermione pulled out her book, silently willing the trolley to arrive and break up this nonsense. Then she’d have at least thirty minutes of blessed silence while the boys loaded up on sweets.

Ron smirked. “It doesn’t  _ not _ mean anything, either.”

It was going to be a long train ride.

* * *

Hermione was really starting to worry about her friend’s obsession with Malfoy. Harry’s eyes had flicked over to him throughout the welcome feast, and though they were now several days into term, he hadn’t started a single assignment. All he and Ron could talk about was how they needed to beat Slytherin this year in Quidditch.

It was enough to make her scream.

The boys were currently mapping out new strategies for games in the common room while Hermione was reading ahead for one of her classes. She sat sideways in one of the large crimson velvet chairs and stared at the wall instead of reading the same paragraph for the fifth time while the topic of discussion shifted to Malfoy. Again.

“I just know he’s up to something,” Harry said, shoving his glasses back up his nose. 

“But what?” Ron asked.

“I dunno. Maybe his father is the one doing the attacks, and Malfoy gives him intel on who to target.”

Hermione huffed and slammed her book shut. “And where exactly is your proof of this?”

“Well I don’t have any  _ yet _ . It’s just a hunch for now. If only there was some way to spy on him.” Harry tapped his temple like he was really considering it.

“Right. Well, why don’t I just disguise myself as a boy and infiltrate the Slytherin inner circle? Then you’ll have all the info you need. Suppose I’ll even become Malfoy’s best friend and sort out all the inner workings of his dark mind.”

Harry sprang forward, nearly falling on top of her. “That’s actually not a bad idea. You could find out what’s going on with Malfoy  _ and _ get us their Quidditch gameplans.”

Hermione twisted in the chair and sat up straight. “I was very obviously joking. You can’t just expect me to spend all my time spying on Malfoy for you. What about my schoolwork?”

Ron laughed. “Right, like you don’t have most of your assignments done already.”

“Oh? And what about yours? I certainly don’t have time to play secret agent and still help you two with  _ your _ classwork—which I bet you’re already behind on.”

A conniving look flitted across Harry’s face like he’d just had a genius idea. That couldn’t be good. “Exactly! You spend so much of your time helping us with our work, Hermione, but what if you never had to again?”

“Well, I certainly don’t want you to fail—if you still want to be an Auror you’re going to need top marks.”

“The point is, Ron and I spend a lot of our time doing other stuff and then neglect our work because we know you’ll swoop in at the last moment to save our arses. But if you were spying on Malfoy for us, it would free up our time so we could focus on our studies.”

She crinkled her nose, not sure if she could believe him. “This is ridiculous. It would take too long to brew Polyjuice, so how exactly do you expect me to masquerade as a boy?”

Ginny—who apparently had been there the entire time, sitting in one of the chairs, half hidden by the shadows—popped up and walked over, Dean Thomas hot on her heels. Hermione gasped, having not seen either of them until now. “I might be able to help with that.”

* * *

“I look like Harry.” Hermione surveyed her appearance in the mirror. It was nearly two days after the initial conversation, and after much begging and pleading, she had finally agreed to let Ginny and Dean at least  _ try _ to make her into a boy. Just to see how it went, totally noncommittal. 

“But more handsome,” Ginny said.

“Hey!” Harry looked rather affronted.

“Quiet from the peanut gallery.” Dean adjusted Hermione’s short spiky hair with a comb and some sort of gel. “You do look a bit like Harry, but your eyes are still that lovely shade of brown.”

“Thanks,” Hermione replied. It was rare for a boy to comment positively on her appearance, so she relished the small compliment, even if it was from Ginny’s boyfriend.

“A bit creepy, seeing you as a boy.” Ron scrunched his nose, slowly backing out of the room.

“As always, your input has been most helpful.” She made a rude gesture at him, and he left completely.

“Ignore my brother,” said Ginny, with a roll of her eyes. “He’s just jealous you look better than him.”

Hermione laughed. She felt bloody ridiculous. Looking at herself once more in the mirror, she shook her head and then kicked them all out so she could undo their charms. There was no way she would go through with this.

It wasn’t until breakfast the next day that she started to seriously consider the situation. An owl arrived with  _ The Daily Prophet, _ and she read about more attacks. She nearly spit out her morning tea. This time the perpetrators focused on Ealing, which was where Hermione’s parents lived and had their dental practice. Of course she didn’t believe the Malfoys were involved, but they  _ did _ have ties to dark wizards. If she could find out any information at all, well—it could be useful. She bit into her slice of toast and pondered while she chewed.

“I’ll do it.” After thinking about it all day, Hermione had come to a decision. Her logical brain usually won out, but this time her curiosity and Gryffindor pull to adventure had gotten the better of her.

“Really?” Harry looked elated, jumping up out of his chair.

“Yes, but I have a few stipulations.”

“Of course.” Harry gestured for her to sit. 

They both moved to the couch, and she stared at the roaring fire that seemed to be a constant staple of the common room, no matter the outside temperature. “I call the shots. The moment I feel something is going wrong or I’m uncomfortable about something, we’re done.”

Harry nodded, but said nothing, waiting for her to continue. 

“I will not be a tool for your rivalry with Malfoy. This is merely a reconnaissance mission. I will not actively sabotage him in his studies.”

“That’s fair. What about Quidditch?”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know how much you think I’ll be able to gather without being on the team, and well—you know how I am with flying, Harry.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually. Your fear of flying has more to do with you not being able to master it as easily as you have other things. I think if you were to understand it better—maybe even get good at it—you’d enjoy it a lot more.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled a book out of his bag and handed it to her. 

“ _ The Mechanics of Broom Flight _ ?” She turned it over in her hand.

“It was written by a Muggle-born. He uses a combination of magic and mathematics to show how flying works.”

“Oh. Well, that’s very thoughtful.”

“Give it a read and meet me on the pitch tomorrow after classes. I’ll give you a couple lessons and if you still don’t like it, then I’ll leave it be.”

She mulled it over for a moment. Harry had a point, and it wasn’t like her to back down from a challenge. “Okay. You’re on.”

“Excellent.” He gave her a wide smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes and cracked open the book.

* * *

The book Harry gave her wound up being enlightening. After reading about the principles of aerodynamics and how this factored into flying a broom, she felt a lot better about the whole affair. After all, she’d flown on Muggle planes before, and those didn’t even have magic. She found herself almost looking forward to her little flying lesson as she sat through her classes.

“You ready?” Harry was practically vibrating with excitement.

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.” Hermione had dressed in an old t-shirt and leggings. She’d borrowed Ginny’s broom for the lesson, promising to try her best to return it in one piece.

“Right. We’re just going to go over some flying basics for now. Quidditch can come later, if you’re up for it.”

She nodded and swallowed, letting Harry take the lead. She remembered some things from first year. She did have to learn some very rudimentary skills, but never had the desire to do anything else once her requirements were met. He was patient with her—never condescending—as he went through the simplest maneuvers like speeding up, slowing down, turning, ascending, and descending. By the end of their lesson, Hermione was feeling more comfortable with only a thin piece of wood separating her from the fifty foot drop to the ground.

By the time they broke for dinner, Hermione was starving. She hadn’t worked up such an appetite in ages. Ron watched as she tore through a chicken leg and shoveled another bite of mashed potatoes in her mouth. “Wow, ‘Mione, you’re giving me a run for my money.”

She swallowed carefully and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Very funny. Harry gave me quite the workout with our flying lesson this afternoon.”

“Oh?” Ron inquired around a bite of stewed carrots. “How’d it go?”

“Great!” Harry answered. “I think she’s really getting the hang of it. Soon we’ll break out the Quidditch gear.”

Hermione groaned and took a big sip of pumpkin juice. “Can’t wait,” she muttered.

* * *

“He’s never gonna buy this. I don’t even buy this.” Hermione looked at herself in boy form again, glowering at a very smug Ginny and Dean behind her. 

“Oh, come on, he’s a million years old. I bet he can’t even see that well anymore.” Hermione grumbled under her breath as Ginny stood back, appraising her with her hands on her hips. “I’m a genius.”

“It wasn’t just you,” said Dean, pursing his lips. “I helped—”

“Right. Right. You’re brilliant, too.” She rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Hermione scoffed. “He may be old, but he’s also the most powerful wizard who ever lived. Do you really think he’ll fall for a trick like this?”

Just then, Harry entered the room, looking over Hermione’s appearance. “Excellent. Let’s go see Dumbledore.”

Ginny shrugged as Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm and tugged her out the door. “Only one way to find out!”

Hermione felt squeamish all the way to the headmaster’s office. Her pants felt too tight, and she kept touching the strange shorter length of her “boy” hair cut. She watched blankly as Harry gave the password and followed him up the stairs.  _ Think of your parents, _ she told herself.  _ You’re doing it to help them and the other Muggle-borns who may be attacked. _

She barely processed Harry’s speech to Dumbledore as she sat beside him and tried not to wither under the older wizard’s withering stare. He eyed Hermione carefully over his half-moon spectacles. “Henry Griffiths, hmm?”

“Uh—yes, sir.” She tried her best to make her voice deeper, but she could only go so low before it started to sound cartoonish. 

“And your father is a Muggle in the military, hence the transfer.” He looked skeptical.

“That’s correct, headmaster.” Harry leaned forward and smiled, using the charm that for some reason always seemed to work on Dumbledore.

“And you’re  _ requesting _ to be put in Slytherin? Not in Gryffindor, with your pal, Mr. Potter, here?”

“Yes, my mum wanted me to attend Durmstrang if we got the Scandanavian assignment, but dad was transferred to Britain instead. She said Slytherin would be the perfect fit for someone with my ambition.”

“Hmm.” Dumbledore raised a brow, looking over the falsified scroll they had given him again.

_ This is it, we’re toast, _ Hermione thought glumly. Just then, the fireplace crackled and Sirius’s head appeared. “Albus! Oh, I see I’m just in time. My dear friend Mary Griffiths advised her son would be transferring here and asked me to see to it that Harry showed him around.”

“Oh, so you are acquainted with the Griffiths family then?” The headmaster peered at Sirius’s floating head in the flames.

“Most intimately. Mary was a dear friend growing up. Her sister was a Squib, poor thing. Her parents chose not to send her away for school but taught her at home. Then she married a Muggle military man and moved away. It’s so nice to see Henry again.” He looked at Hermione and smiled. “Haven’t seen him since he was a wee babe.”

Hermione once again fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Harry would drag his godfather into this.

“Alright, then,” Dumbledore pronounced.

Hermione shifted in her seat. “Wait, really?”

Dumbledore nodded. “As it so happens, we just had a student vacate Slytherin recently. His parents are leaving for America, so he’ll be finishing the year at Ilvermorny. There is a spare bed for you, Mr. Griffiths.”

“Excellent,” Harry said.

Hermione felt jittery as she listened to the rest of the headmaster’s instructions. That was easy— far  _ too _ easy. Then, just as they were leaving, she swore Dumbledore winked at her. If he was onto them, why would he let them carry on with this farce? She was almost too afraid to think of the possibilities.

“That went well,” said Harry, as soon as they were in the hall alone.

“Too well, don’t you think?” She gave Harry a sharp look.

He shrugged. “I think Dumbledore enjoys our shenanigans, so if he knows what we’re up to, maybe he’s eager to see how it plays out.”

She sighed. “Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” 

* * *

After having Ginny and Dean show her the multiple glamour charms they used for the tenth time, Hermione figured she was as prepared as she’d ever be. She still wasn't convinced that this was the best way to try to uncover the mystery of the attacks, but the thought of never having to spend hours helping Harry and Ron on their schoolwork again  _ was _ alluring.

She grabbed her messenger bag—charmed to look more masculine—and headed towards the dungeons. She had her room assignment on a small scrap of parchment along with the current password. She gulped as she entered the dark entry, not knowing what to expect. Her mind conjured images of ghoulish paintings and snakes in terrariums.

As she stepped into the common room, all those thoughts vanished. A roaring fire with flames of emerald green beckoned from the sleek black marble fireplace. The couches and armchairs were fine black leather, and plush carpets in tones of silver and green lined the stone floors. It was much cozier and welcoming than she had ever expected. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Hermione startled to find Pansy Parkinson sitting in a chair in the corner, raising an eyebrow at her as she filed her nails with a tool that appeared to be made entirely of gold.

“He-Henry Griffiths, transfer student.”

She tilted her pug nose up in the air. “You’ve got a very Potter-ish look about you, Henry.”

“Um… thanks?”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll just be going to my room then.”

Pansy snickered to herself and resumed filing.

Hermione took a deep breath as she opened the door to her assigned room. It was blessedly empty at the moment, and she took her time unpacking her things on the vacant side. She was interrupted by a dramatic sigh as someone else entered.

When she turned around, her breath caught in her throat. There, clad in nothing more than a towel, was Draco Malfoy. “You must be the new kid.” A few water droplets ran down his pale, toned chest, and she couldn’t help but stare. He was far more fit than she would’ve imagined.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

“As long as you keep to yourself, we shouldn’t have any problems.”

She nodded, her eyes traveling down his biceps and forearms to where he was gripping the towel at his waist.

“You’re not a pouf, are you?” He quirked an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tilting ever so slightly.

Fuck. He noticed her staring. “Um, no. Are you?”

He laughed, settling down on his bed. She tried not to look at the gap the towel was making. “Hardly. If you are, it’s nothing to be shy about. I’d set you up with Theo. He’s got a thing for cock—and blokes that look like you.”

“Erm— thanks, but I’m good, really.” Hermione sat down, staring at her feet. “I’m Henry. Henry Griffiths.”

“Draco Malfoy.” And with that, he stood and dropped the towel, heading towards his dresser.

Hermione quickly turned around and resumed unpacking.  _ I’m going to murder Harry and Ron. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took FOREVER. The muse is tricky these days (what with the ever present anxiety and existential dread). This chapter is un-beta'ed so all mistakes are my own. I'm hoping for this story to be rather short, so I've set the chapter count at 4 but there's a possibility it will increase. I'm also in the planning phase of my next longer Dramione WIP, which I've already commissioned art for and am very excited about!

Draco wasn’t sure what to make of his new roommate. He seemed skittish, but determined to fit in—when he was actually there, that is. The mysterious absences for long periods of time were suspicious, but Draco firmly believed in keeping one’s business private, so he wouldn’t pry, regardless of how curious he was.

Pansy, on the other hand, was not as magnanimous. “Where is Henry going all the time?”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe he’s got a girlfriend in another house.”

“Girlfriend? Please. No way that bloke knows his way around a pair of tits.”

“I don’t know, Pans. Maybe leave it be for now. He only just got here, give him a chance to settle in.”

“Where is this compassion coming from, Draco? I thought you only cared about yourself.” She stuck her chin up at him as she breezed past and stepped into the hallway.

“I do. But I also like sparing people your chaos when the chance arises.”

Pansy gave an agitated  _ hmph _ as she stormed off. Draco snickered to himself, pulled an apple out of his pocket and bit into it as he walked to class.

* * *

“Harry, I’ll never get the hang of this!” Hermione swung round on her broom and narrowly avoided the Bludger that Ron had sent her away.

“No, you’re doing swimmingly! Just stay focused.” 

They had been playing a truncated game of Quidditch to figure out what position Hermione would be best at. Ron and Ginny were helping—as well as doing their best not to laugh. She made a shit Keeper. While Hermione could answer questions faster than anyone, she did not have the same physical reflexes when it came to stopping a Quaffle. She also lacked the upper body strength of a Beater. That left only one other option: Chaser.

She wasn’t that bad, after getting a bit of a rocky start. In her head, she was doing equations determining the right angle to toss the Quaffle so it would go through the goal hoop. Her first time scoring felt almost as good as getting top marks on a difficult exam. Maybe she could get used to this.

“That was brilliant, ‘Mione,” Ron said when they were done.

She wound up scoring three different times. Even if they were taking it easy on her, it was still an accomplishment. She blushed. “Thanks.”

“It really was,” Harry added. “Now you just need to try playing as Henry. See if you can still sign up for tryouts.”

She nodded, a twisting in her gut. “I-I’ll try.”

Harry grabbed her shoulder and smiled. “That’s all I ask.”

After a quick shower, Hermione raced through the halls, making a quick stop in a broom closet to perform the charms to turn herself back into Henry. Then she made her way to the Slytherin table for dinner. 

“Where’ve you been, Griffiths?” Malfoy sneered inquisitively before taking a sip of his drink. Had she really never noticed before how perfectly full his lips were?

“Um, practicing. Sort of.” She shrugged and tucked into her meal, trying to ignore Pansy’s withering stare.

“Practicing what?” Theo asked. He sat to Malfoy’s left and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Quidditch. I’m not very good, but I thought if I put in some extra work before tryouts—”

Malfoy dropped the haughty sneer as his mouth widened into a full grin. “So what position are you—because you should know the Slytherin team already has a world class Seeker.”

Pansy snorted and tried to cover it by eating a bit of potato.

Theo shot her a nasty look. “It’s true, our boy Draco has won more games for Slytherin than any player in the last twenty years.”

Blaise Zabini scoffed from his spot beside Pansy. “Too bad it’s not enough to beat Potter.”

Malfoy tightened his grip on his fork. 

Theo mouthed  _ shut it _ to Blaise. “It’s true that we have been wanting to crush Gryffindor this year. They may have beat us last year, but this time we’ll show them what for.”

“Do you play the beautiful game?” She asked Theo.

“No, but I benefit when Slytherin wins.” He winked and before Hermione could ask what he meant, Daphne Greengrass piped in from Pansy’s other side.

“What he means is, he takes bets on the games.”

Hermione tried to hide her shock by sipping on some pumpkin juice. “Is that allowed?”

Everyone at the table laughed.

“Ah Griffiths, you  _ do _ have a sense of humor.” Malfoy made eye contact with her as he smirked. Hermione tried to ignore the little fluttering sensation in her stomach. This was a reconnaissance mission, she reminded herself.

Most of the table got up and left before Hermione was done eating, but Malfoy waited for her to finish. “You know, if you’re serious about Quidditch, I could help. I’m a Seeker, but as the captain, I also know a little bit about everything.”

She wiped her mouth in what she hoped was a not too dainty way before responding. “That would be great. I’m a Chaser, if you think you can show me some things.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem for me. I’m very well-rounded, athletically.”

She struggled not to roll her eyes, knowing that would only anger him. “Thank you.”

He nodded once and rose. “We’ll get up early tomorrow and hit the pitch before class.”

_ Great _ , she thought. Not only would she need to spend the night in her Slytherin dorm, she’d also have to get up early, too.

* * *

Hermione tossed and turned in her green silk sheets. It was odd feeling the pillowcase on the skin of her neck—she was used to her forest of curls acting as a barrier—but with her Henry hair, she felt colder. She pulled the comforter further up, warming the exposed skin.

It didn’t help that there was a shirtless, somewhat attractive boy not ten feet away. Yes, she could admit it in the privacy of her own thoughts, Draco Malfoy was easy on the eyes. And his body was pretty nice, too. But if she let herself get distracted by that, Harry and Ron would never forgive her. She had to find a way to get him to talk. Somehow between worrying about Quidditch in the morning and hoping the boys did a good enough job of covering for her absence in the Gryffindor dorms, she eventually fell asleep.

She awoke to a figure looming over her. “Rise and shine, Griffiths!”

Hermione let out a hearty scream and shot up in bed, causing Malfoy to jump back. 

“Merlin, you scream like a girl.”

Quickly, she calibrated her voice and remembered where she was. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a… paranoid sleeper.” Was that a thing? 

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else. “Well get your shit together and meet me on the pitch, if you still want help.”

“Will do.”

She scrambled into her gear and rushed down to the pitch. 

“Alright, Griffiths. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Malfoy took Hermione through her paces, as she expected he would. She tried to keep up with him, but it was difficult. He didn’t know her history so he didn’t take it easy on her as she suspected Harry had. Still, she thought herself not doing too horribly as she scored another goal on him.

As they ended their practice session, Malfoy hopped off his broom and wandered over. He wore a somewhat good-natured smirk on his face. His uniform clung to his body with the sweat of their exertion. She glanced away quickly, trying not to linger on his toned arms. “Not too shabby. I think we may be able to use you.”

“Really?” Her voice came out a little too high, so she cleared her throat and tried again.

“Yeah, you’re a little sloppy with your flying but you’ve got speed. We lost Pucey after last term so we’ve got an open spot for a Chaser. Besides, even returning players have to try out again.”

“You think I’ve got a shot?”

“Yeah, with a few more practice sessions, we’ll have you an ace flyer in no time.”

Hermione smiled. Draco Malfoy seemed to be a lot nicer to those in his own house.  _ Or maybe he’s matured, _ she thought. She wanted to dive right into questions about the Muggle attacks—the faster she figured it out, the faster she could be done with this ruse—but she didn’t want to ruin their newly established camaraderie just yet. “Breakfast? I’m starving.”

“Sounds good.”

They walked in silence to Great Hall and joined the other Slytherins already chowing down. She looked surreptitiously to the Gryffindor table and caught Harry’s eye, giving him a subtle wink. He smiled into his tea.

* * *

Draco was rather impressed. It seemed the new kid wasn’t half bad at Quidditch. Which was advantageous since they lost a couple of their best players this year. He’d been granted a gift in making captain before his seventh year, and he didn’t take it lightly. Especially since Potter was also the captain of the Gryffindor team. Draco knew it was his responsibility to make sure the team was the best it could be.

He thought Griffiths had potential. And if he were honest with himself, it was nice to have someone new to chat with. Pansy had been nearly detestable since he told her they couldn’t fool around anymore. Crabbe and Goyle were more dull than ever, which he had used to his advantage in his younger years, but now that he had gotten more serious about his studies and wanted to make something of himself after school, he tried to keep his distance from them. Blaise and Theo were amusing, but they weren’t as occupied with their studies as he was.

Griffiths was new and had no baggage from previous years. It was—refreshing.

This year, aside from beating Gryffindor for the Quidditch cup, Draco had two other goals: knocking Hermione Granger out of top spot and getting Cho Chang to go to the winter formal with him. He wasn’t sure which one was more unattainable.

Just as he was striding down the corridor ruminating on this, one of the girls he’d been thinking about whirled around the corner, nearly smacking into him. He paused her with a hand on her shoulder, catching a whiff of her shampoo—citrus with a hint of spice. “Granger, we have to stop meeting like this.”

Her eyes widened and a light blush tinted her cheeks. How had he never noticed her freckles before? “Sorry, Malfoy. I should really learn to watch where I’m going.”

“I’ll say.” He smirked, not sure why the urge to tease her was hitting him so strongly today.

“Uh, Malfoy?”

“Yes?”

“You can let go of me now.”

Draco blinked, realizing his hand was still on her shoulder. “Right. Sorry.” He let it fall limply to his side and took an awkward step back. “Watch yourself, Granger.” 

She nodded as he walked away quickly, trying to ignore his rapid pulse.  _ What was that? _

The next class he had with the Gryffindors was Arithmancy. Since it was an elective, it was small and afforded him the opportunity to relive the strange incident in the hall with Granger. Could it possibly be that he found her… attractive? He nearly scoffed aloud at the thought. She was a Muggle-born—not that he cared as much about that as before—but she was also his academic rival.

And yet—he found himself watching the way she propped her quill on the edge of her pink lips as she thought about the solution to the problem on the board. She’d also really grown into her hair. Though it was still wild and untamed, it seemed to suit her more. And he couldn’t help but remember how warm she’d felt beneath her shirt when he touched her shoulder earlier.

He shook his head. He’d had his sights set on Cho ever since her very public breakup with Cedric Diggory last year. She was smart, pretty, and his parents would approve. Not that he particularly valued what his father thought these days. He’d run himself ragged trying to make that man proud, and for what? Nothing he did was ever good enough. It seemed as though he was always trying to prepare Draco for something, but that something never came.

Draco returned his attention to Professor Vector. Even though he hadn’t made fun of Hermione’s blood status in years, he doubted she would ever be interested in him anyway.

* * *

Hermione had changed into Henry and back more times than she cared to count today. This was getting old quickly, and she hadn’t even gotten to ask Malfoy about the attacks yet. However, she did feel like their Quidditch practice had been a bonding moment. At least she seemed to be gaining his trust.

She filtered into the Gryffindor common room for her debriefing with Harry and Ron. Her new strategy was to turn in early, set up the Hermione effigy in her bed, and then slip out to make it to the Slytherin dorms before curfew. Harry had let her borrow the invisibility cloak just for this purpose. It had surprised her, but she knew how serious he was about this whole situation, though she couldn’t be sure what information he was more interested in—the attacks or the Quidditch strategies.

“So, what have you found out?” Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“Not much yet, but Malfoy thinks I have a shot at making the team.”

“Excellent,” Ron said, unwrapping a piece of candy. “Is he driving you mental yet?”

She shook her head. “So far, he’s actually been… nice.”

Both boys made a face like they couldn’t imagine anything less possible. 

“Yes, well he’s probably only being nice because you’re Slytherin,” Harry said.

“Or because you’re a bloke,” said Ron.

“Just because you think he has no redeemable qualities, doesn’t make it so.” Hermione crossed her arms and huffed. “At any rate, he’s going to help me train more so I can be prepared for tryouts. I’ll try asking about the attacks then.”

Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Well, don’t come on too strong. You don’t want him suspecting anything. I think what you’ve been doing so far is great.”

“Yeah?” She smiled, relishing her best friend’s praise.

“Definitely,” Ron chimed in. 

Harry scooted over on the couch until he could touch her arm. “I know we asked a lot of you, Hermione. I want you to know we don’t take it lightly. You’re a really good friend.”

She tried not to think about Malfoy’s muscles flexing beneath his Quidditch uniform, and how she found herself finding new reasons to commit to the mission. “Yeah I guess I am.”

* * *

Training with Draco Malfoy was intense. He expected a lot, and he pushed hard. But he also gave credit where it was due. “You’ve really improved your flying technique, Griffiths.”

Hermione swooped low across the pitch before dismounting her broom gracefully, no longer afraid of injuring herself each time she got on. “Thanks to you, Malfoy!”

“Should we hit the showers?”

Hermione blanched. So far it hadn’t been an issue, but she forgot that athletes usually had locker rooms where they got ready… in front of each other. “Um, I forgot—I have somewhere to be. Catch you later, Malfoy!”

He gave her a quizzical look as she raced away.

Hermione ducked into the first alcove inside the building to catch her breath. She’d have to be prepared for this in the future—and find a way to work around it. Now if only she could stop her cheeks from turning red every time Malfoy took off his shirt.

Once she caught her breath, she ventured out only to nearly run into Pansy Parkinson.

“Oi, watch it, Granger!”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“What were you doing in there anyway?” Pansy looked her over curiously. “If you and your pet Gryffindor boys are up to something, I  _ will _ find out.”

Hermione’s inner alarm system was on high alert. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pansy.”

The other witch just turned her pug nose up and walked away. “We’ll see about that.”

* * *

The next evening, Hermione had just slipped back into the Slytherin common room as Henry. She avoided making eye contact with anyone and headed straight to her room. Upon entry, Malfoy looked up from the book he was reading. She noticed it wasn’t a textbook and her heart warmed that he also read for pleasure.

“Hey Griffiths, you ready for tryouts tomorrow?”

“I think so. Mostly thanks to you, Malfoy.”

“Well, of course, but you also have natural talent. Make sure you bring it.” He set his book to the side. “Where are you always going, by the way? Pans seems to think you’re up to something.”

Hermione stilled in the middle of pulling off her shoes. “Is Pansy your girlfriend?”

Surprisingly, Malfoy began to laugh. “No. She wishes. We fooled around a bit last year, but I’ve got my sights set on someone else.”

_ Good. Keep him going and maybe he’ll forget he asked. _ “Oh? Who?”

“I don’t know if you’ve met her yet. She’s in Ravenclaw. Cho Chang?”

“Oh yes, I think I have Potions with her. She’s very pretty.” A little frisson of  _ something _ bloomed in Hermione’s chest, but she ignored it.

“She is, but it’s more than that, you know? I like a girl who’s smart and knows what she wants. Pansy isn’t dumb, but her singular ambition is to find a wealthy Pure-blood husband and live out her days in comfortable luxury.”

“And that’s not what you want?”

“Well, my parents will expect me to marry eventually, but I want to experience life. And I want someone I can carry on a conversation with—about art and literature, and maybe Quidditch if I should be so lucky.” He leaned forward a bit. “You know, Cho is on the Ravenclaw team.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Hermione had finished unpacking her bag by now and even charmed herself into Henry’s pyjamas without Malfoy noticing.

“What about you, see any girls you like yet?”

“Oh, um…”  _ No, Hermione. No, Hermione. No. _ “There’s this one girl, Muggle-born.”

Malfoy’s eyebrow shot up. “Really?”

“Is that an issue? My father’s a Muggle, you know.”

“No, no. I wasn’t saying that. I just don’t know a lot of the Muggle-born girls… well, except Hermione Granger, but she’s a bit of a swot.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Oh fuck, it’s her, isn’t it? I’m sorry. She’s also pretty, just kind of a know-it-all?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Which isn’t  _ bad _ , per se. You should just make sure you bone up on your reading. Or well, I don’t even know if it even matters since she’s always hanging out with those two idiots.”

“My mum’s close with Harry’s godfather.”

“Ah shit.” Malfoy’s cheeks were pink by now. “I’m actually really tired, Henry. And you should get some sleep for tryouts. Goodnight!” He turned over and extinguished the lights with a snap of his fingers.

Hermione smiled wide in the darkness. She had made Malfoy flustered  _ and _ witnessed a bit of impressive wandless magic. She counted it a small victory. As she nodded off, it suddenly dawned on her that he had called her pretty.


End file.
